


30 days of wolf 359 kinks and 2 not so much

by haywoodyablowme



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Angry Sex, Asphyxiation, Begging, Biting, Blood Kink, Body Worship, Bondage, Boot Worship, Bukkake, Cock Rings, Cock Warming, Collars, Come Swallowing, Corsetry, Costumes, Crying, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Edgeplay, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Formalwear, Frottage, Glory Hole, Gun Kink, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Impact Play, Knifeplay, Lapdance, Laughter, Laughter During Sex, Licking, M/M, Masks, Masochism, Massage, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Multi, Nipple Play, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Pegging, Praise Kink, Predicament Bondage, Public Sex, Rimming, Role Reversal, Roleplay, Sadism, Seduction, Sensory Deprivation, Sex, Sex Toys, Shibari, Sleepy Sex, Smile, Sounding, Spanking, Spitroasting, Strip Tease, Suspension, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Daniel Jacobi, Trans Female Character, Uniforms, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-07-21 03:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haywoodyablowme/pseuds/haywoodyablowme
Summary: So october just started so why not start it off eith a bang! That joke was fucking horrible. Anywa, its sex, updating irregulalry and pre tagged to hold myself accountable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day one;  
> Kinks; face sitting, masks  
> Ship; kepcobi

****Jacobi rolls his hips as Kepler's tonghe presses flush to his clit- he moves deftly, licking and sucking, drawing moans from Jacobi. Warren's strong hands stay wrapped around the top of Jacobi's thighs, keeping him firmly sat on his partially covered face. He can't help but let his thighs spread- the feeling of Kepler's tongur gliding across him is too uniquely sweet for him to keep his composure; Kepler's mask too, just uncomfortable enough to be annoying, but not painful enough to satisfy Jacobi's masochistic leaning.

 

A mask like Kepler's is just too flamboyant to look natural on a man as hardened by the military as him. The muted yellow and orsnge embellishments make the blue in his eyes that much more vibrant and his face being obscured makes him that much mkre mysterious. He doesn't notice he's doing it at first- bucking his hips up into nothing just to feel his cock press into the fabric of his boxers and strain against his slacks- it's more than nothing. Kepler tries to keep Jacobi still as he focuses in on his clit- it'd be easier on him, sure, but the image of Jacobi desperate for anything and absolutely everything is mesmerizing. His lips form around Jacobi's anatomy and with each hollowing of his cheeks, comes a sigh or a moan from the man above hum. It's satosfykng to hear. He can't help but moan along with him.

 

Kepler dkgs his nails into Jacobi's flesh- he swears he hears Jacobi curse just undet his breath and oh so breathy when he does. One of Jacobi's hands quickly finds a place in Kepler's hair soon after. His fingers curl in and tug anf oull at varying intensities. Kepler groans into Jacobi, dragging his short nails across Jacobi's thighs. Daniel's free hand however, reaches up under his shirt and his fingers graze against his chest, thumb rubbing against his nipples.

 

Each movement is less controlled the mote he grinds down on Kepler's face. He can frel himself coming undon as heat builts between his hips wnd he grows more fervent and eratic. He pulls acutely on his hair, gasps so sharply when Kepker moves di precisely- the motion alone psuhes him closer to his own end. Jacobi grinds hisnjips rownnand his thighs tense, for a moment he stops moving, just long enough for Kepler to hold hin down with a firm hand and refocus his attention. He doesn't have a coherent plan, really. Kepler kist knows all he can do is suck and lick at Jacobi for all he's worth.

 

Jacobi's blunter nails dig into his own chest. He can't form words- he arches his back and pulls on Kepler's hair as be moans sk carelessly, moving his hips in some selfish attempt to frel all that he dsn as he nears climax. It's overwhelming- the subtle scratch of the mask wnd tbe stubble on his thighs, Kepler's relentless intent to draw every ounce of life from Jacobi is palpable. It's downright disarming- even if he can't see Kepler's face, and even as he sits atop his face, he still feels like he should be pinned under Kepler; whining and begging for release he may never get. But he doesn't beg, just chokes ouy whimpers and whines intermingled with the occasional profanity. Neither man pauses when Jacobi passes the point of no return. Kepler, mercilees we his tongue swirls ariund Jacobi's clit as he sucks; Jacobi practically fucking Kepler's face as the heat gathering between his hips pours over into too much. 

 

He's speechless as he cums. Whining and writhing on Kepler as he makes a cacophony of sound. His hips twitch and his legs shake, and his grip ln Kepler's hair loosens. His breathing starts to level out and he lifts himself from Kepler's face. He looks down at the man below him who's now grinning likena fox. Jacobi's heart skips a beat and time slows as he's flipped onto his back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two:  
> Kink: Begging  
> Ship: Prytter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real fuckin happens here but. Hey no one said you had to bust a nut daily,

“Ah- ah, Marcus,” Her voice is gentle and she presses her heel more firmly against his wrist, “not yet.” She warms in an almost bored voice. “You don’t get to just- get off without permission.” Miranda purrs the last word, grins in a semi sweet way and sighs. He’s kneeling in front of her. He’s not even stripped down- he’s dressed in his full regalia, satin shirt and a cotton weave pant so fine it could make kings envious. And yet, here Marcus is, on his knees begging for a primal desire to be satisfied.

 

Marcus blinks, twice slowly then something closer to normal to bring himself back to the reality of this situation. He doesn’t speak for a moment- he looks confused for half a second and smiles something coy and incredulous. 

 

“Miranda-” He starts.

 

“Try again.” Miranda’s voice is stern, a warning.

 

“Mistress,” Marcus swallows a lump in his throat and he doesn’t pay any mind to the heat building beneath the skin of his face, “please Mistress, may I please touch myself?” He isn’t ashamed to ask. He’s almost desperate and with that depravity comes Marcus’ vulgar tongue.

 

“Aww,” Miranda coos, smiling a sickly sweet grin that looks alien on her face, “earn it.” She hums, patting his cheek with one hand. “You can do that for me- can’t you?” She tilts her head to the side and leans back on the edge of his desk. Marcus pauses for a beat and grabs at Miranda’s skirt. 

 

“Mistress please,” His voice is breathy and he’s acting in that overexposed way- a product of his upbringing, “please- I need to-” He tries and she simply pushes him back onto his ass. She stands up- stands over him and walks with such deliberate steps to the desk chair Marcus covets and sits down. Her movements are calculated- and her eyes- off putting as they may be, never leave his. Not even for a moment.

 

Miranda sinks into the leather chair and sighs in such a relaxed, familiar way; Marcus almost feels special being able to see this intimate display. 

 

“I think I finally get why you like things like this, Marcus.” Miranda hums, pushing herself in lazy half circles as Marcus looks on from in front of his desk. “It makes you feel important- and it’s so- so comfortable.” She sighs, rolling her shoulders back and leaning her head back over the top. 

 

Marcus doesn’t think as Miranda talks- he crawls over to her on his hands and knees, looking up at her with a single coy thought in his head. 

 

“I'll do anything.” He's trying to bargain. Resting his chin on Miranda's knee and looking up at her with wide eyes, his arms wrapped around her leg. Marcus looks almost Adorable like this. Miranda runs a hand through his hair and keeps eye contact with him. “Please- I- please I need- something, I- please, Mistress.”

 

Miranda can't help but grin; he looks so pathetic, sounds even more so. She's reveling in it. She scratches his scalp gently, thinks over his request and chews on the inside of her cheek. Moments pass but it feels almost instantaneous.

 

“Anything?” Miranda questions with a knowing grin. Marcus nods, and Miranda's free hand bunches up the hem of her skirt, slowly pulling it up. Marcus’ eyes follow the movement, he's fixated with the upward motion, knows exactly what to do when he sees her underwear; but he doesn't move to do anything. He waits- looks up at her for permission. Miranda slouches down a touch in his chair, looking at Marcus objectively, assessing him, and nodding, finally.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day three  
> Kink: sensory deprivation, edgeplay, knife play  
> Ship: cutler (cutter/kepler)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the shortest chapter, bold i know

Kepler isn't tied down but he knows he can't move. He knowsfor a fact he could overpower Cutter; he also knows he isn't immediatley in danger. He's just- tense. The knife against his skin is the only real contact with Cutter be has right now. He's not scared- not on the surface, it's a fool's errand to betray fear in this little game of theirs.

 

They've been at this longer than Warren would've liked. Cutter does love to draw these things out; the man revels in every level of discomfort he can put someone on, it isn't far fetched to think hs couldnt get off on that alone. Teasing people, pushing thrm farther and farther until they're miles past their limits until they're begging for mercy. Kepler can't even claim more decency or superiority; he does the same thing and loves it almost as viscerally. That being one of the only things keeping Kepler from pleading mercy; Cutter would just have to keep trying.

 

What feels like hours pass between the two of them- blade pressing into Warren's skin and almost drawing blood but always trading off with subtle brushes of Cutter's body on his. Kepler can't think clearly- he can feel parts of him leaning into any and every touch he can, his head rolling back against the the chair he's confined in. An eternity passes between the blade leaving Kepler's throat and Cutter's hand replacing it. He almost moans as his hand squeezes his throat- his face starting to flush red. 

 

The hand doesn't leave; more weight is added on and Warren can feel himself start to float- his body distinctly a separate entity from his head as he revels in this substance in his void. The rustle of fabric moving means something, Warren doesn't get the chance to think on what that means. Cutter's weight lowers onto his lap and he moves in closer. Warren almost moans.

 

"Breathe, Warren," Cutter smiles into his ear, squeezing the sides of his throat, "it's no fun if you pass out so soon-" he chuckles and Warren releases a long held breath and takes few shaking breaths in qnd releases them more and more evenly. He digs his nails into his palms as he sinks into his own helplessness. "Good boy."

 

There's a small screaming part of Warren that doesn't want to admit or believe that he enjoys massochism at it's base. He knows logically that taking a hit is almost if not just as important as delivering one; even if the thrill of sadism is more controlled.

 

The dynamic is fun- it always is, Cutter leaning in to stripping Warren of every ounce of control is liberating and scandalous in the same breath. It's fun- but never fair; there's no need for it to be fair in the slightest.

 

Cutter rolls his hips on Warren's, draws another elongayed moan from the back of his throat. He grins wickedly and tucks his knees into Warren's waist, and the latter's back arches. He relaxes under Cutter, his heart racing and fingers digging into his skin. He needs more- he's desperate for more, and his hips roll up against Cutter. 

 

As quickly as he'd came into contact, he disappears from Kepler's lap. He's fast- slides down his lap and stands and his nails scrape against Warren's skin before leaving him whining and his mouth agape.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Four  
> Kink: Spitroasting, Mirror sex, Spanking, Dacryphilia  
> Ship: Cutter/Jacobi/Kepler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> viewer discretion is advised

Cutter is a man of eccentric interests. He has the same interests as any sadistic villain from a movie circa the 1980s, but be that part of his personality or a result of what’s practically immortality is up for debate. The current obsession he has is almost cathartic; observing two organisms in their natural states is compelling on it’s own, but when the two meet and paths cross- that is even more so.

 

The two specimens Cutter is observing as of late are two of his own employees- the mastermind of his cloak and dagger organization, Warren Kepler, and Kepler’s lieutenant, Daniel Jacobi. The intersection they find themselves at is one Cutter has considered for a long time now. He didn’t ask them to prove their union- hell, he didn’t even imply they had a union. All he asked for, was for them to show him what they do when they’re on missions and have time to kill together. Maybe there were insinuations- subtext as it were, but that hardly matters now. Watching Warren fuck Daniel from behind- one of his hands on Daniel’s lower stomach, and the other round his throat. Daniel’s grasping at Warren- a hand reaching for his hair, the other somewhere on his hip- he looks cute, desperate and whining and loud. It makes sense why Warren likes him so much- especially like this. He’s precious- really and truly.

 

It’s hard for Cutter to really discern what he likes more here- the image of Daniel so weak and loosely moaning, and the sounds he makes are heavenly to say the very least; or maybe he’s more entranced by Warren. Muscle Bound and scarred makes for something interesting to look at- but the raw aggression in form- the way he moves isn’t angry, it’s powerful. He’s not holding a single thing back when he thrusts so deeply into Daniel, neither of them are being shy with any sound they make.

 

Warren’s hand wanders lower, between Daniel’s thighs. Two fingers rub at Daniel’s clitoris- almost immediately he’s exponentially louder. His head falls forward, hair either sticking to his sweaty forehead or dangling in front of his face, and the grip on his throat feeling more intense than it needs to be. Warren doesn’t squeeze on his throat- not really, he doesn’t want to lose the sound that’s seemingly keeping him going- but he doesn’t need to. Daniel’s doing a fine job of choking himself for Warren. If it were anything else it might be sweet to see.

 

Warren whispers something in Daniel’s ear- coaxes him to look up at the window of Cutter’s office. Cutter follows his gaze and his curious investment melts away to an almost childlike giddiness. He can’t hear whatever Warren’s whispering in Daniel’s ear- sort of wishes he could. That husky, rough voice is so intoxicatingly beautiful- why wouldn’t he adore it? Daniel’s eyes meet his reflection- barely a mirror, but Daniel’s face still flushes red as Warren whispers in his ear. Cutter can surmise what Warren’s saying to him, it’s cute. Daniel tries to hide his face as Warren slows his pace down.

 

“Be a good boy.” Marcus warns with his sweet smile, crossing one leg over the other with hands folded in an attempt to cover the growing tent in his trousers. Warren flashes Marcus a half grin as some kind of thank you and bites a mark onto Daniel’s neck. He makes a drawn-out almost breathless noise, eyes screwed shut for a moment too long.

 

Marcus clicks his tongue and stands, slowly walks to the two of them and stands in front of Daniel. He holds Daniel’s face and Warren’s hand falls away from his neck. Warren slows his pace, the smacking of their skin much less harsh, and arguably the motion is much more intimate. His hand grazes over the 

 

“Daniel- come now, don’t be difficult, open your eyes.” Marcus almost cooes the words as his free hand undoes his belt. Daniel’s eyes flutter open and his mouth starts to hang open as Marcus’ thumb leans on his bottom lip. “Ahh good boy,” Cutter hums, sliding the digit into his mouth. At first Daniel doesn’t move. He stays still and whimpers- maybe realizing how exposed he really is in this moment. But he doesn’t move away- he almost looks scared, he’s got the same wide eyed look as a nervous deer, and Cutter can’t help but smile at it. Daniel sucks gently at first; he knows what’s expected of him, and he hums around Cutters thumb. 

 

He leads Daniel down, holding his jaw and pulling him down to be eye level with Cutter’s belt. Daniel’s eyes are fixed on Cutter’s hands as he moves with inhuman grace to undo his belt and unbutton his pants. Daniel can barely wait- time moves at the same pace as Warren- slowed to a mind numbing crawl- and he’s impatient, it’s endearing. He doesn’t wait for Cutter to finish- his pants are hardly pushed down past his thigh when Jacobi starts to mouth at his dick. Cutter doesn’t outwardly react, smiles to himself at first then glances to Warren who can’t keep himself from watching.

 

“Patience is a virtue, Daniel.” Cutter scolds, nodding to Warren for some kind of action. Cutter looks away from Warren and looks to Daniel’s face. Cutter’s heart warms so quickly when Warren’s hand strikes the side of his ass. Daniel jerks back onto him and whines so sharply from the pain and winces so notably. It’s adorable. For the sake of symmetry, Warren lays another strike on the other side of Daniel’s ass. He flinches away and whines again, a snivel of a whimper as he arches his back again. Cutter eases his boxers down his thighs and his dick stands unrestrained. 

 

Daniel- more hesitant this time- waits until Cutter puts a hand on the back of his head and pulls his face in close. He doesn’t start sucking- not immediately. Daniel licks at his shaft, lays soft kisses on the skin closest to Cutter’s pelvis and moans into his skin. Warren’s pace isn’t exactly brutal- he’s picked up a bit, and Daniel telegraphs that just finely. He takes his time getting to actually wrapping his lips around the head of Cutter’s dick- slowly bobbing his head and sinking lower and lower- he can only meander for so long. 

 

The hand on the back of Daniel’s head starts gentle but, with growing impatience, it gets more demanding. His head is shoved down onto Cutter’s cock, and he can’t move. Daniel finds himself stuck, with Kepler slamming into him and Cutter gagging him and offering no release. The sensations are overwhelming and he can’t do anything about; he’s helpless and the feeling is enticing but, he doesn’t know how to cope with it.

 

Daniel’s eyes prickle and burn, and before he knows it, tears spill down his cheeks. He can’t stop it or wipe away his tears, or pretend he isn’t crying. It’s obvious from the tint in his cheeks to the tears staining his cheeks as they fall, unwanted and uncomfortably hot. When he’s allowed air, he’s panting, coughing and rediscovering his mouth, taking in as much air as he can before it’s suddenly cut off again.

 

“Daniel,” Cutter purrs, wiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb, “we’ve barely started and you’ve already started crying-” he smiles in Daniel’s face. “You might not make it out alive,” He jokes with a winning smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Five  
> Kink: predicament bondage, sadomasochism (kinda??)  
> Ship: kepcobi

One of Kepler’s favorite things to do is put his Sub in a predicament. He loves ultimatums like this- today’s scenario is a special treat that only he’d enjoy. Daniel is sat on a wooden chair, his ankles tied to the legs of the chair and his wrists to the back, with just enough slack so he can move around. Short chains attach to his nipple clamps with slack not to tug on his chest until he does move- the catch, is the chair. It’s modified, holes cut into the seat so when one sits, they find themself riding a dildo just too big for comfort, and just in front of that is a hitachi wand turned on high.

 

Daniel, has been placed in this predicament- he agreed to it- he always does, but it’s always different when he’s in the predicament rather than imagining it. His back is arched and he can’t think coherently enough to find a good middle ground. Sitting all the way down his mind goes blank as the wand vibrates against him and he’s bottomed out on the toy he so foolishly chose. But- when he pulls up, the pull on his chest is almost excruciating, he’s sensitive and Kepler knows he is- it’s his personal hell. Trading one overly present stimulus for another isn’t pleasant but it’s what he finds himself doing. He knows he has a way out- he knows there’s a safeword he can use at anytime- they even have a motion that means stop if he can’t speak. But that’s not needed right now.

 

Kepler sits across from him- dressed and comfortable and everything Daniel just isn’t, he’s watching with a curious interest that’s slowly evolving into something more amused. The tent in his jeans is obvious, but goes undisturbed, he just watches as Daniel struggles against his restraints and the contraption he’s made. He smiles, watching Daniel bounce on the the two, watching his chest be pulled around by cold unforgiving clamps- and the sounds. They’re beyond heavenly, Daniel moaning and swearing and making noises he didn’t think would be possible anymore- it’s a morbid kind of beautiful. 

 

Daniel knows he can’t take this strain much longer- something’s gotta give, and he doesn’t have a choice on what it is the longer this goes on. He can’t form a clear word and he can’t keep himself steady- Kepler knows what’s coming just as much as Daniel, but he doesn’t stop the scene. Tears well in Daniel’s eyes- each sensation is too much and he’s sore but something inside him keeps him going- he knows exactly what part of him that is but insists on pretending it’s his need to impress.

 

When he cums it’s arguably one of the prettiest sights Kepler’s ever seen- the sweat gleaning off his forehead and shoulders and his hair clinging to his forehead, each pant and moan more war torn than the last. Warren sits on the edge of his seat as Jacobi dives over his edge, practically screaming as he grinds down on the toys and leans into his discomfort. He’s panting- looking for something in Kepler’s positioning to tell him he’s done well- that this part of the night is over. There’s no such tell- no matter how much he wishes there was. 

 

“Again.” Kepler’s only motion, is turning the wand onto a lower setting. His grin is wolfish and his face unreadable, single tears drip down Daniel’s face as he continues bouncing on the silicone appendage.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Six  
> Kink: corset, biting  
> Ship: prytter

Miranda really knew she shouldn’t have gone this far for a joke that wouldn’t land. Wearing a corset is something she didn’t like even in the abstract, but wearing one and layers of dresses was even more impractical than say- walking a tightrope blindfolded with a messenger bag stuffed with lead. In short, it’s not her best idea. Not in preparation at the very least. She’s not omniscient- not yet at least- but she’s picked up on a trend that Marcus tends to enjoy- something he’s admired as of late. While the pain of a corset is a prerequisite for this, she knows the overall net is positive. It makes her waist look dramatic and pushes her breasts up just so- she looks like a pin-up girl. If Marcus doesn’t appreciate the effort she could easily find someone who will.

 

Waiting around in it is something she hates- it’s too restrictive and it’s a dull period of time- waiting. Waiting for Marcus to come home from work is like waiting for an alcoholic to quit the bar. It might never happen. She’s almost convinced she should go to him- do what spontaneous women do and show up in a trench coat and high heels- that dramatic reveal almost always goes well. 

 

The door opens just before she starts the search for a coat. Marcus stands in the doorway almost exhausted and a moment of confusion flashes across his face, then he grins. Not his perfect smile he uses on his underlings, a little lopsided and less sharkish. It’s not entirely amicable- he looks almost like a predator who’s found the perfect time to pounce.

 

“Miranda!” Marcus drops his coat on the arm of the couch. “You look lovely as always,” He hums, leaning down with one hand on either side of her, he leans in close, the tips of their noses just touching. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He purrs and brushes closer to her.

 

“You owe it to me,” Miranda says it in an almost flat voice. “I decided to- take a tip from you- try dressing up for a change. You love it.” She smiles like she’s won. She knows she has.

 

“Oh Miranda,” Marcus sighs, “I adore you.” He gently kisses her neck and her hands ghost up his chest, over his shoulders to the back of his head.

 

“I know you do-” Miranda takes a deliberate pause, “-daddy.” Marcus exhales pointedly and a shiver races through his veins.

 

“Oh kitten-” He can’t make it to the end of his thought before he’s kissing her, he tries to be elegant- to pick her up lay Miranda down on his couch sweetly, but it ends up more as him pinning her after lifting her, his hands working at pulling what clothing he can off of her. “You’ll cause a scandal if you’re not careful.” His voice is a low whisper and Miranda grins in the darkness of his look.

 

“Sounds like fun.” Miranda mutters between kisses, “Don’t tempt me, daddy.” She tacks on, pulling Marcus down over her. He moves on from kissing her face to her neck, pressing sweet kisses on her skin and listens for when her moans spike, feels for when she twists her hands in the fabric of his shirt. He bites her when she does that- ranges from harsh to sweet- each moan he draws from her is smoother and sweeter and he finds himself falling deeper in love with her.

 

“You’re a vixen.” Marcus hums against her throat, Miranda laughs.

 

“Tell me something new, Marcus.” Miranda runs her fingers through his hair and tugs lightly.

 

“What was that?” Marcus asks somewhat ominously- he’s somewhat teasing, but one of his hands holds her jaw with something more than a threat.

 

“Nothing, daddy.” She smiles pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He can’t help but melt into her. He stays deep in the kiss and releases her face- she’s too pretty for something brutish- and he lifts her with an arm around the waist and the other just under her hips.

 

“That’s better,” He hums, switching their position and keeping his hands about her waist. “Show daddy what you want, kitten.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day seven  
> Kink: praise  
> Ship; jacoffel

Sex with Doug is hardly ever- as structured, as Daniel’s used to. It’s not necessarily bad, dynamics can get tiring and it’s not like they need to start a scene to enjoy each other in more ways than one. It’s as laid back as he is, and it’s easy to fall into.

Daniel likes sitting on Doug’s lap, facing him as his boyfriend sinks into his healthily trafficked couch, he looks at home. He kisses Doug’s neck sweetly- doesn’t bite as roughly as he thinks he should, just grazes his teeth along his neck, past stubble and sinking into his soft skin. Doug’s hands rest on the small of Daniel’s back, his finger-tips subtly dipping into his underwear and his lips parted just enough to let subtle moans slip out.

Every subtle roll of hips and gasping breath draws Doug closer to Daniel. His chin sits on Daniel's shoulder and his hands almost desperately grasp at his back and ass.

“You're- beautiful.” Doug sighs into Daniel's hair laying a kiss to his collarbone. Daniel pauses for a moment- he wasn't really expecting it, he never does.

“Shut up.” He hums playfully, nipping a bruise into Doug's neck. “You're just horny.”

“You're fucking hot-” Doug groans, letting his head hit the cushion of his couch. “-and the way you-” he rolls his hips, “-how the hell were you ever single?” Doug can't keep his hands off of him. “You're perfect.” He mumbles into Daniel's shoulder. 

He pauses for a moment- debates on how slowly he should go in teasing Doug. It's not mercy that motivates him but the opportunity for new methods of torture. Daniel slinks down between Doug's knees and the sight alone almost kills Doug on the spot. 

“Oh my god- you're gonna fuckin kill me,” Doug sighs, one hand in Daniel's hair the other behind his own head.

“You're so dramatic.” Daniel can't help but grin, he's almost a little too full of himself, letting the praise go to his head. “Just- relax.” Daniel purrs as he pulls Doug's sweatpants down his thighs. “I'll take good care of you.” He winks.

Doug's hand on Daniel's head is more encouragement than anything else. He knows his skill but God- it's like watching an artist. The way Daniel's head bobs and moves, licking and sucking Doug's dick like it's his sworn duty. He's beyond impressed, making sound with each of Daniel's motions, bucking his hips up when he can and choking him ever so slightly.

When he pulls away, string of spit connect from the head if Doug's cock to Daniel's lips. Doug's heart skips a beat and Daniel takes a moment to really register it; his eyes glazed over as he's edging closer and closer to submission.

“You've done, so well, baby.” Doug pants, scratching Daniel's scalp for a moment. Daniel grins something lopsided and relaxed. “Ready to go again-?” He's almost too eager as he pushes Daniel's head back down onto his cock.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day- doesn't matter  
> Ship: cutcobi  
> Kink: hair pulling

Quarterly reports are a monotonous affair; Marcus calls his favorite agents and officers in one way or another and he decides if they're worth keeping around anymore. There's the usual suspects that will be renewed and an agent he'd never give a bad report to- but the HR department would throw a fit if they heard the Communications Director plays favorites that blatantly.

The last interview of the day is always reserved for the most fun employees- Warren came yesterday and today, Daniel found himself sitting across from Cutter. Cutter's smile is unrelenting. He's almost too relaxed, sitting back in his chair with his legal pad on his lap. To Daniel and any other person merely aware of Mr. Cutter, it's unnerving to say the least.

The interview drones on- standard questions; do you feel valued in your workplace, is your workplace safe- Daniel knows the right answers at this point. Kepler's a hardass but boy, he inspires productivity! Yes, he works with firearms and weapons- but no one can intimidate the bomb engineer. He's fine, the job's fine, everything is fine. He isn't exactly aware of when Cutter's questions go from probing bureaucratically to something more intimate.

“Scale of one to ten, how well would you say you follow orders, Daniel?” Cutter smiles. Daniel pauses and shrugs.

“About a nine?” Daniel thinks it over quite quickly- there's always room for improvement and more or less he does follow orders.

“Then come here.” Cutter plants his feet on the ground and sits sort of straight in his chair. Daniel doesn't move.

“Excuse me sir?” He asks almost incredulously.

“Daniel, I'm not asking again.” His smile never falters but his expression darkens. His voice cheery enough to hide his frustration.

Daniel pauses for a moment and stands up, he closes the small distance between himself and Cutter.

“What am I-” he doesn't finish his question, Cutter's hand quickly reaches up into his hair and he grabs a fistful of curls. Daniel tenses ever so slightly but the majority of his body goes slack.

“Atta boy,” Cutter hums as his fingertips rub small circles into Daniel's scalp. He sighs dreamily as Daniel's eyes shut behind his glasses and his lips part ever so slightly. Cutter's fingers move quickly and Daniel leans into the minor touch, relaxing so quickly it doesn't take much persuasion for Cutter to push Daniel to his knees. 

He sinks to the floor with a content hum, and Cutter swivels to face him, thighs spread with Daniel in the middle. The scratches stop and as Daniel turns a confused gaze to Cutter. He tilts his head to the side and Cutter can't help but feel his heart warm at the sight. He tugs on Jacobi's hair and sends shivers down his spine. Daniel's eyes close again and he lets out a low groan. 

“Open your eyes, Daniel.” Cutter isn't smiling- but he doesn't sound upset. He's more relaxed than anything else. Daniel complies- his hazel eyes half lidded as he glances up at Cutter. “Good boy.”

Daniel's practically purring from the validation. He smiles lazily and leans his head on Cutter's thigh, humming to himself as Cutter pulls on his hair. It'd be sappy to say Daniel feels anything close to love looking up at Cutter- it's a more relaxed version of lust; the way his eyes track over his body and the intensity with which he watches Cutter undo his belt confirms it. A slight tug on his hair prompts him to open his mouth and he moves closer to the tent in Cutter's pants.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship: prytter  
> Kink: massage, sleepy sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write more sex but didnt like how it came out so im only publishing what im proud of and okay with publishing, maybe one day ill write borderline somno, but not today

Sunday is the day of rest; the holy day of sleeping in and letting the world pass by until sometime just before the afternoon. It’s one of the rare days that Marcus and Miranda get to spend together. They don’t get much time together; conflicting schedules and lives don’t blend too beautifully. It’s an unfortunate side effect but- that doesn’t matter now. 

Right now, Miranda wakes up to warm light filtering through half closed blinds, Marcus’ arm slung around her waist and blankets wrapped around her. It’s comfortable in this moment and neither of them would want it any other way. Marcus squeezes her as he wakes up. He’s used to getting up and doing, used to having a full day in front of him, but he can’t let habit rule him in these circumstances. They lay still for a while, half awake and the morning sun easing them up out of slumber. 

They don’t get out of bed; Miranda lays on her stomach and Marcus stays on his side, his head on her shoulder and one of his hands tracing shapes into her skin. She could fall asleep on the spot, but it’s not practical to at that exact moment. Marcus’s hands are already on her and he’s quite suggestible- this could be a chance for intimacy.

“Marcus?” Miranda asks in a small voice. He hums in response. “Give me a massage?” She asks, turning her head to look at him.

“Of course-” His voice is low and still steeped in that sleepy hum; it makes miranda shiver all on it’s own. Marcus sits up and rubs his eye, yawns and stretches his arms up over his head. He pauses and looks at the woman next to him. His heart warm and heavy and he can swear he’s in love. Her hair splayed out around her head and the metallic implants at the base of her neck shining in an off gold glint.

Marcus settles himself on Miranda’s hips, sitting just below her ass, he’s got her whole back to work with. His hands slowly work up from her waist to her shoulders, pressing the heel of his palm into her flesh before rubbing broad circles with the tips of his fingers across the width of her shoulders. He kneads her flesh, working his way back to her waist and dragging his thumbs down as he leans into each motion. His thumbs rub small circles into the dip of her back as his hips quite frankly roll against hers. Miranda gasps- equal parts faux scandalized and a soft pleasure. 

She hums in the back of her throat and presses her hips into Marcus’ and he starts to growl.

“Miranda-” He hums, leaning down to let his chin rest on her shoulder, “-if I didn’t know any better- I’d think you woke up horny.” His voice sounds almost deceptive and Miranda grins into the pillow. She lets her head sink down more and she shrugs as best she can.

“Who knows?” She’s coy, and Marcus sits back up. He drags his hands down her back and pushes them back up, stopping around her shoulders and rubbing around the base of her neck. He rolls his hips up into hers again and hums so softly as his dick starts to get hard. He’s sure she can feel it- but he doesn’t try to conceal it. She moans when he does and her eyes flutter shut. 

“Miranda-” Marcus’ grin is wicked, she can’t run from this tone of voice- too sweet for his own good and dripping with a knowing venom. “Can you do that again?” Marcus asks almost in his business voice as he grinds on her ass, bucking his hips into her and almost instantly drawing a moan from her. “Thank you, Miranda.” His voice is coated with a special kind of smugness, he’s almost too proud of himself for finding out something he already knew.

She doesn’t struggle against him- she melts into the sheets as his hands work at releasing her tension- years of stress melt out of her shoulders, and she moans into every little movement as he progresses; whether it’s to appease Marcus or a genuine expression is debatable, but it’s a gift nevertheless. Golden light dances on their skin and Marcus continues to unravel Miranda. The movement of his hands almost always exaggerated or punctuated by a roll of the hips.

She's practically a puddle beneath him. It's little victories like these that make it worthwhile- it's a reminder that they're still both alive and together. Marcus sidles off of her, lays down next to her and lines himself up to spoon her. Miranda leans into him- appreciating the heat radiating from his lean form. 

It's not like either of them didn't see it coming; Marcus’ hand finding it's way into Miranda's underwear isn't unwelcome. Miranda's thighs spread ever so slightly, she nods to grant him permission, and Marcus’ fingers are gentle with her. His index rubs circles on between her folds- it doesn't take long for him go find her clitoris and continue tracing shapes upon it. His other hand slides up her shirt, playing with her breast and rolling her nipple between his fingers. She tries not to moan- just keep limited to sighs and hums. 

Miranda hides her face in the pillow, moaning into it, and Marcus smiles into her neck. He nips at her neck and Miranda reflexively cringes away.

“That tickles-” she's breathless and her tone is pointed in an attempt at playful jeering. 

“Yeah?” Marcus grins and does it again. A little stiffly, Miranda giggles and presses her ass into Marcus’ hips. He rocks his hips into hers and she hums.

“Yeah-” she moans, trying to cover her face. Marcus keeps rocking his hips and grins into her skin as he realizes how wet she's gotten in the short span of time. 

“Miranda,” Marcus hums, “do you want to-” he doesn't finish the question.

“God- yes, Marcus.” She hisses. “Yes.” She's panting almost and gripping the sheets a little tightly. Marcus smiles sweetly and pulls both pairs of their underwear down. He lines himself up with her, pushing the head of his cock against her opening. She whines almost desperately, needy with anticipation as Marcus slides himself in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kepcobi, role reversal and knotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi i just wanna say thank u so Fucking much for reading this, if youre just here for one chapter or like the whole thing it means a lot to me that youve seen it and hopefully enjoyed it. I don't know if i can properly Express just how grateful i am.

Jacobi’s more than pleased when he gets the upper-hand this time around. He tries not to address it as a power trip at first- he’s just in more control. He’s got Kepler wrapped around his finger, and god is it brilliant. He’s not bragging really if he takes a picture- is he? He’s gotta keep this for later. Warren, laid out with his legs spread, a vibrator inside him and a ring around his cock. He’s making more sounds than Jacobi thought he was capable of- and it’s exquisite. Kepler arching his back and bucking his hips trying to get something more and more than he already has. He’s desperate, plainly said. 

Jacobi could just sit and watch, enjoy playing with him like this, but that’s not what Warren would do if the roles were flipped. He’d dive into the situation and antagonize. So Jacobi does just that- comes in close and ghosts touches over Warren’s thighs, his stomach, grazes his lips over his neck; only getting close enough to feel but nothing gratifying enough to bring some catharsis. Warren leans in as close as he can, eyes half lidded and breath heavy, Jacobi smiles, not something sickly sweet or too suave, his lips curl upward in triumph.

“What’s wrong, Warren?” He asks, the smile on his face only growing.

“Fuck y-” He starts, cut off by a deep groan, his head tilts backward and his eyes close for a moment. “Fuck you-” he pants and Jacobi nudges the vibrator, coaxes a moan out of him almost immediately after he speaks.

“I know you wanna.” Jacobi’s grin is almost cheshire, he’s taking joy in this a little too deeply, and Warren can hear the grin. “Maybe you’ll get to- maybe.” Jacobi sighs and sits on his knees between Warren’s thighs. He thinks for a moment- what’s the easiest string to pull here- one hand goes to Warren’s dick. Grazing the backs of his fingers up against his shaft, watching him twitchy with anticipation, and hearing Warren whine, Jacobi can almost swear he hears a pained and desperate please pass his lips. 

Jacobi wraps his head around the head of his cock and passes his fingers over it, gently squeezing as he moves his hand. Warren shudders- pure bliss races through him as he bucks upward. He doesn’t think much of the action- finally, he’s getting something after all this waiting for nothing. Jacobi repeats the motion a few times over and watches amused as Kepler with half lidded eyes stares at Jacobi’s hand and uselessly thrusts his hips up trying to get more than that. 

“You’re so fuckin’ needy, Warren,” Jacobi sighs and shakes his head in mild disapproval. “It’s cute but- god, someone’s gonna think you’re a slut and fuck you up,” He presses his lips into a flat line and stops moving his hand quite suddenly. Warren gasps and bucks his hips up desperate for more and Jacobi squeezes his dick too hard for comfort. Warren winces but he moans, languid and whining. Jacobi smiles guarded and planning. “Yeah?” He taunts, running his thumb almost affectionately over the head of his cock. “You like it when Daddy hurts you?” He sounds patronizing and Warren hates it- his blood boils but he doesn't protest really; he laughs. Jacobi doesn't hesitate- he smacks the man in the face. Jacobi lets go of Warren and sits up on his knees. He unbuttons his jeans and pushes the garment- along with his boxers- down to pool on the bed around his knees.

Warren should've seen this coming- maybe he did, but the sight still took what breath he could muster from his lungs. He can't tear his eyes from Jacobi's hips, the contours of his abs dipping into his pelvis, the guidelines of his hip bones pointing in, leading Warren's gaze to the strapon he's wearing. It's not obscenely large- but it looks like more than Warren's used to. The swells and textures on the cock are intimidating and Warren is dizzy with anticipation thinking about the appendage inside of him.

Warren lets his head hit the pillows and he swears under his breath, lips moving on their own accord. His chest is heaving- he tries to stay consciously focused on his deep breaths- tries to stay present. Jacobi must find it entertaining. He chuckles under his breath something curt and almost cruel. He leans over Warren- his dick longer than warrens with swells that out-girth him. It's intimidating but somewhat exciting in the same breath. Jacobi's hand rests on Warren's chest as he reaches for a bottle of lube in the nightstand.

Warren knows when he's found what he's looking for. Jacobi is generous coating his hand with the liquid. Warren doesn't have time to be baffled by the choice- he would've used less. Jacobi rubs his hands together and none too gently slaps his palms against Warren's thighs. He jerks upward and makes a strained noise of surprise. Jacobi laughs to himself. The wet sound sticks in Warren's ears and the sting lingers longer than he'd like.

“Do you just- not bottom?” Jacobi sounds genuinely surprised as a laugh bubbles up in the middle of his question. “This is gonna be fun,” he sighs, grinning smugly to himself and dragging his nails down Warren's thighs.

“None of your business,” Warren breathes, taking deep breaths.

“Well I'm gonna find out.” Jacobi's voice isn't bland but he's not emoting clearly. He smacks Warren's skin again, closer to his cock and Warren jerks up again. Jacobi strokes his own dick with one hand and, coating every dip and curve with vanilla scented lube. His other hand holds down on Warrens hip, he moves his hand down, index finger extended as he prods at the other mans asshole. He's slow to press a finger in, and Warren tenses slightly at the sensation. He's not unfamiliar with it- Marcus has his way with him regularly enough, but the sense is always a surprise to him.

Jacobi works his whole finger in, moves it in and out a few times and curls his finger up- he's aware of what he's brushed against when he sees Warren shiver. It's cute- watching him shudder like he's never had his prostate stimulated. Jacobi adds another finger- there's no hesitation in the movement, only experimentation. He can feel Warren tense around him, and inevitably, he relaxes. He moves the fingers a little slower and pushes them apart ever so slightly. The positions are mere millimeters in difference but they feel like yards to Warren. The stretching sensation throws him through a loop- it's almost indescribable, pleasure overwhelming pain and his thighs spreading further leaving him helpless and exposed to the man before him.

Jacobi adds a third finger- it's easier, and Warren is opening up easier than he thought he would. He still waits a moment- but it's notably shorter than before. He works his fingers in and out, curling them and being deliberate and slow. Warren moans more liberally, takes deep shaky breaths as Jacobi moves. He's used to the feeling by now- as used to it as he'll be- and he whines almost needily when Jacobi removes his fingers.

“C'mon Kep,” Jacobi pouts, lining his cock up with Warrens hole, “Daddy's gonna take care of you.” He groans it as his cock starts to slide into Warren, he rolls his eyes again- why call a twink daddy? He can't ignore the stretch- it burns. He whines and tries to keep relaxed, it's not a harsh strain but it sends him reeling. The sense flies out of his head and all he can focus on is the cock sliding into him.

He arches his back slightly when he reaches the swell in the toy. He takes a deep breath, ready to have it forced in- but Jacobi doesn't force it in. He waits for a moment- he can see Warren tense his stomach and thighs and wait he waits. Warren can't decide to be grateful or not; is Jacobi being kind of cruel- watching Kepler get uncomfortable around his cock.

Moments pass and Jacobi's gaze softens just a touch. He kisses Warren almost tenderly and he drinks in the warmth of the action. Jacobi keeps their lips connected and gently pulls his hips away from Kepler's before pushing them back together. He starts a slow rhythmic pace, pulling out and pushing in, drawing long moans from Kepler that even sound accented. Jacobi bites down on Warren's neck and he gasps almost surprised at the act.

Jacobi grins, pulling his mouth away from Warren's throat and replacing it with his hand, he squeezes Warren's throat and the man gasps. His lips part and Jacobi picks up his pace. He snaps his hips into Warren's, always stopping short of the knot, grinding it up against Warren's ass. It's cute how he tries not to react to it; but he grinds back, every single time. A wicked gleam flickers in Jacobi's eye and his free hand grabs Warrens cock. He squeezes the man's throat and more roughly works his cock. Keeping a good pace at his hips falls in line when he synchronizes his hand and his hips.

Warren writhes under Jacobi, digs his nails into his palms and moans out with every inward motion, the drawl thick in his voice coating every sound, and the shame he might've had now thoroughly depleted. If he's going to be here- like this, he might as well make the most of it. The discomfort melts away and he rocks his hips into Jacobi's however much he can. He can feel himself close to climax; sooner or later, Jacobi is going to push him over the ledge.

Jacobi hums under his breath; pleased with what he's seeing. He grins sideways and grinds the knot against kepler with some lingering longing. He pulls his hips back and with a forceful push, the knot goes in.

Shock paints Warren's face and he gasps so sharply, his cheeks painted a rosy color and his body is a step in front of his mind. He's started to finish- sticky white stripes painting Warren's lower stomach. He moans so loosely, muttering Jacobi's name and shivering at the sensation. Jacobi drags a few fingers through the semen on Warren's skin. He dips those fingers between his superior's parted lips and continues to push in and out, never removing the knot.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kepchel, overstimulation, uniforms, cum in clothes, ruined orgasm

Their interactions rarely go this way. Rachel and Kepler throw remarks around, quipping and teasing, being snide, giving biting remarks. They don’t like each other particularly, they tolerate each other and have meaningless sex for fun. It’s a standard work based and purely professional relationship.

Kepler came in that day in a military uniform- something for Cutter or some SI-5 goings on she can’t be bothered to care about it. But he didn’t leave Rachel alone while he waited for- something. He never told her what exactly he was waiting for- but it doesn’t quite matter right now does it, not when his lips won’t leave her neck alone and his hand feels right at home under her skirt. 

Two fingers press up against her underwear, circling the spot of wetness starting to form- Kepler can’t help but smile. He nips her skin and she shivers, he chuckles to himself and grinds on her ass, light enough to feign innocence but not so much for plausible deniability. 

“Fuck you- Warren,” Rachel pants- she’s almost desperate to keep it from being a moan. 

“Oh Miss Young-” Warren laughs. “Let’s put that smart mouth to better use.” He grinds against her again and bites her neck. “What color?”

“Green-” She huffs, shoving an elbow into his ribs. Warren loosens up enough for her to spin around and face him. “-you?” She pulls him down- close enough to kiss but never closing the distance.

“Chartreuse.” Warren spits with a smug grin. Rachel rolls her eyes and uses a single hand to shove him against the nearest wall.

“Stop being a smart ass.” Rachel’s voice is venomous as one hand grips the shirt of his uniform and the other slips past his belt into his pants. There’s pride in something like this for her- Warren can talk all he wants about professionalism but she’s one of the things he unwinds for. That has to be a rare accomplishment. 

“Only when you do.” Warren grins so smugly as he laces a hand through the hair at the base of Rachel’s skull and rests the other on her hip. “Don’t wanna let you get bored, do I, Miss Young?” He grabs at her ass and she presses her hips back into his hand.

“How considerate.” Rachel hums, her hand tracing the length of Kepler’s dick. “I think I can handle myself.” The words are curt as she smiles in his face, eye contact unbreaking as she squeezes her hand around the tip of his cock. Warren groans low, lets his head roll back and rest against the wall while his eyes slide shut. 

Rachel continues the motion- stroking his dick with a light touch and paying special attention to rub her palm over the tip- he shivers every time she does and- between that he tries to move his hips so he can fuck her hand- she’s not even trying and he’s like this already. As Warren edges closer and closer to climaxing- he gets louder. It’s one of his few flaws- which normally wouldn’t be a flaw. But doing this in Rachel’s office- at their shared workplace- that, is a problem. They could get caught- reprimanded! Their little relationship could be exposed and made more of a spectacle than it already is.

But that’s part of the fun- the risk of being caught; it only makes Kepler more aroused. He's tempted to be louder, let himself express everything, but the faint sound of people just outside her door is enough to deter him. That, and his pride; wouldn't want to let Rachel think she's won that easily now- would he? Kepler doesn't notice he's moving his hips in a complementary time with Rachel's hand, his breathing is deep and slow and his eyes half lidded and trained on the ceiling. He's trying to pace himself this time- make her work for whatever it is she's so keen on getting out of him. 

Rachel doesn't allow him to stay still for too long- she knows how to unwind him- she's got him on a string, practically. Her chest is pressed to his and her teeth against his neck, Warren bows to his own urges; his guard drops for a moment, and he groans. Rachel stops moving her hand and Warren bucks his hips desperately, searching in vain for some further stimulation. He goes to whimper again only to have Rachel's fingers placed in his mouth. She pulls away from his neck enough to command him to suck on her fingers and waits for him to settle down before putting her hand back on his cock.

Warren doesn't do what he's told immediately. He tries to reject this intrusion, but Rachel is too determined to keep him as he is. He sits, with her fingers in his mouth and her hand gently brushing against his cock. It's torture and she knows it. She forms her hand around him again and starts slowly working his cock again. Warren's composure is less than a facade as he rocks his hips into Rachel's hand; his hands go from the small of his back to hers, and one to the back of her neck. He's little more than surprised when he's grunting into Rachel's hand and his rounded nails start to dig into the skin around her neck and his eyes screw themselves shut. He knows he's nearing the edge of his own climax and Rachel doesn't stop.

He's getting jerky- fingers twitch and his movements more staccato than glissando, and her hand releases his dick. Warren cums into his underwear, shock and betrayal in his eyes, the momentous climax suddenly lesser than. He whines around her fingers and as soon as he's done twitching her hand resumes it's pace on his dick. He gasps sharply and lightly bites her fingers. Rachel simply grins up at him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacoffel, dirty talk, mutual masturbation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for reading and,, happy birthday rocketman !

It started out innocently enough. Jacobi incidentally endearing himself to the communications officer of another ship wasn’t something he meant to do- it just happened. In a way- it’s refreshing. Officer Eiffel- as Jacobi’s came to know him- isn’t too bad of a guy. He talks in one of the weirdest ways any living human could- but it’s nice to know someone else has seen all the bad movies he has. He’s not as uptight or condescending or too involved Jacobi can’t wrap his head around- not to degrade anyone else Jacobi might know, but Eiffel’s easier to talk to sometimes. There’s somthing in the sentiment that one of the only places Jacobi’s felt a semblance of belonging is deep space but- gift horses shouldn’t be looked in the mouth especially in the middle of deep space. 

Neither really know how the topic of sexual encounters came up- maybe it was the farewell comments Jacobi’s superior officer left him with that were just a little too suggestive- or maybe Eiffel just wanted to hear himself talk. Either way- it lead to him purring into his headset about some blonde he had a run in with. If he even knew of such a thing as modesty, Eiffel didn’t care for it. Not a detail was spared in his retelling- the bastard even went as far as to imitate the creaks and groans of his car and the moaning on both ends.

It’s almost embarrassing for Jacobi- he knows he shouldn’t be turned on by this. It feels like five different rule violations at this point, but not once does he cut Eiffel off. He just sits and listens- hums and does all the vocal cues so Eiffel knows he hasn’t spaced out just yet. It’s hard to pin point when exactly Jacobi’s hand went down his pants- he tries to be stealthy, moves slowly as he curls his fingers inside himself, holds his breath as his palm brushes up against his clitoris. He thinks he’s a god at this- he hasn’t outwardly moaned or too heavily breathed into his microphone- at least he thinks he hasn’t. He doesn’t notice when Eiffel stops talking. He keeps going, a little braver than before; he sighs into the microphone and his eyes squeeze shut. 

It takes a moment for Eiffel to really register what’s going on- he blinks and is- genuinely stunned for a moment. He doesn’t think it through, grins wolfishly and leans in to his microphone.

“Officer Jacobi-” He purrs, holding back a laugh when he hears Jacobi gasp so sharply, “Officer Jacobi,” He draws his name out and lowers his voice. “Are you okay?” He hums the words and can’t keep himself from smiling.

“Y- Yeah,” Jacobi clears his throat and levels his voice.

“Y’sure?” Eiffel’s grin is palpable.

“Yes-” Jacobi sighs, just a little too breathily.

“Sounds like you’re havin fun,” Eiffel says, “whatcha doin, Officer?”

“I’m not an officer- I- I’m a civillian.” Jacobi struggles to keep composed. “Call me agent.” Jacobi sighs, hands shaking.

“Are you havin’ fun?” Eiffel repeats himself, he sounds- almost arrogant, condescending at best.

“No, I’m in outter fucking space, talking to one of the only living people in the nearest lightyear. I can think of more fun things- to do, just, not here.” Jacobi’s almost out of breath as he speaks, barely keeping himself together, adamant in continuing.

“You sure, Agent?” Eiffel puts a sickly emphasis on the last word, it makes Jacobi’s skin crawl. He has to think he’s got something on him here, Eiffel thinks he’s got something on Jacobi- and if he has the right assumption, he does. But why would Jacobi admit Eiffel’s right? That’s ridiculous.

“I have no idea what you’re going for.” Jacobi sighs when he finishes the statement. “I- I’m not doing anything.” He says.

“Oh you know exactly what I’m talkin about, Agent Jacobi.” Eiffel hums in that low almost gruff voice. 

“Like I said, Officer, I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jacobi grits his teeth as he says it- grinds on his hand as he fingers himself.

“Oh officer? don’t be so formal, Jacobi.” Eiffel teases. “I know what you’re doing, Agent.” Eiffel says it in that knowing tone, and Jacobi can’t really stand it.

“What am I doing?” Jacobi challenges.

“Masturbating-?” Eiffel’s almost too quick to the draw. Jacobi goes red.

“No- No I’m not.” Jacobi’s almost too defensive, and Eiffel just laughs. “It’s not funny-” Jacobi tries to keep himself together, but he can’t help the ferocity in his defenses.

“It kind of is, Jacobi,” Eiffel smiles. “I mean- how hard youre trying to hide it is funny,” he almost meanders on the words. “I’m not gonna be mad if you are, y’know.” He pauses. “I mean it’s a little hot, getting all bothered, just by hearing someone’s voice?” He pauses again, a bit longer this time. “If you’re still there, why don’t you give me- a little moan, hm?” Eiffel asks in a smooth voice.

Moments pass in silence between the two of them.

“Last chance-” Eiffel doesn’t get to finish his sentence, Jacobi moans into his microphone, leaning back with his legs somewhat spread. He waits for a moment, both of them letting it hang in the air. Jacobi moans again and Eiffel sighs, a shiver running up his spine. “Good boy.” Eiffel’s voice drops to something more gruff and husky. That being the exact moment Jacobi knew he was completely and utterly fucked.

“What’re you doing?” Eiffel asks, leaning forward onto his panel. Jacobi hums and leans his head to one side, eyes closed and mumbling under his breath.

“F-Fingering myself,” Jacobi admits, trying to keep himself level- tries to keep from falling too deeply into the warm feeling enveloping him.

“Yeah?” Eiffel hums, “Feel good?” He asks in a genuine way.

“Mhmm,” Jacobi hums, “yeah.” He sighs. His fingers move a little quicker, he pushes ever so slightly deeper into himself, moving his hips to meet his hand. Another moan slips out, less restrained than before. Eiffel’s hand goes to his crotch, massaging himself through his uniform.

“Keep makin noise for me, we’re on a private channel.” Eiffel says it so confidently, and Jacobi doesn’t think twice before complying. His voice wavers- goes higher and lower before finding a comfortable place to settle. “Good boy.” Eiffel groans. Jacobi doesn’t stop moaning- not really, even in the dips and pauses between norable sounds, there’s a whimper or sigh or sharp breath- always something.

Moments pass and Eiffel’s words seemingly cease. He isn’t sure what to say listening to Jacobi like this- the man’s pulled himself apart for Eiffel and he can’t even say anything more. All he can think about is joining in on the fun. His hand hovers between his pants and his boxers and he really thinks it over. He doesn’t know if this is good idea- he’s half convinced if he does Jacobi would run for the hills. 

“Hey- Agent?” Eiffel’s voice is still gruff. “Would you be okay with me uh-” he clears his throat. “-joining you?” He asks a little softer and Jacobi hums into his microphone. “Use your words, Jacobi.” It’s almost a purr- and he isn’t trying to force an answer out of him, just tease him a bit more.

“Uh- I- just- just go for it-” Jacobi’s voice is a little choked- he doesn’t care one way or the other quite frankly, Eiffel could or he couldn’t, Jacobi would get off either way. He is a little curious to know- but he isn’t aching to hear it. Eiffel’s hesitant to do it- even with permission to. But the feeling of actually stroking his cock is better than hovering and teasing himself; with his pants shoved down around his knees and boxers around his mid thigh, he starts to stroke his cock. He should’ve licked his hand or even spent a moment to find a bottle of lotion, but there’s no shame in a dry session once in a while.

Eiffel tilts his head back, listening to Jacobi moan and whine around his fingers, he starts stroking his cock. His hand wrapped around the head and his palm brushing against it again and again, working his way down to get more and more- he’s slow at first, works himself into a faster rhythm before fucking his hand. He doesn’t realize how needy he sounds at first. He’s not intent on making as much noise as possible, but he groans into the microphone anyway. 

For a moment Jacobi doesn’t think much of hearing it. He’s heard men moan time and time again- it doesn’t all sound the same, but, the things that set Eiffel apart really do put him in a league all his own. Somehow his accent translates into every sound he makes- makes his groans sound that much gruffer and his sighs- they could send Jacobi into a spiral so easily. 

They bounce off each other- Jacobi whines and Eiffel moans- a lazy game of back and forth between the two of them. It goes on for longer than they’d expected; some point of pride each of them held to not be the first one to succumb may be keeping them going. Eiffel's shameless, moaning languid and loose and lilting, and Jacobi's the first to actually say something.

“Didn't know you got pornhub seven light years out,” he jokes. Eiffel chuckles under his breath and grunts.

“Ha-Ha.” Eiffel's voice is lower than either of them remembered. Jacobi hums and his voice quirks up. “Just look for a cute twink fucking himself.” Eiffel purrs into his headset. “I think he's- fingering himself. Stroking his dick while he does, legs spread, waiting for someone to-” Eiffel doesn't finish; Jacobi gasps sharply and rocks his hips up into his hand. He curls his fingers inside of him and his other hand plays at his nipples. His hips buck up and he can hardly stay still. He's getting louder- panting and whining and Eiffel can hear how close he is.

“C'mon-” Eiffel's voice is almost desperate, “c'mon baby, you can do it- cum for me.” He rasps.

Jacobi bites his lower lip and whines, he tries to be quiet but that's near impossible as his body reaches its climax. His nails dig into his chest and he gasps, he moans shakily and feels himself get wetter as he comes down. He's shaking and twitching in the slightest, panting and whining as his eyes refocus.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prytter ft kepler, cockwarming, public sex, formal wear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ykno sometimes its Like That

The one thing rarer than a blue moon, is Miranda Pryce letting her better half be dominant over her with no retaliation. When something like this does happen, however, she never truly gets to live it down. Every time he can he reminds her of the time she looked at him with eyes so wide and an expression so gentle, it would be near impossible to think of her as a cold scientist. 

She tries not to let it happen too often; she lets Marcus have his fun then reverts to their typical dynamic- and it works. But the abandonment of any and every god in the known universe had to have lead her here, it’s the only explanation she has.

It started out innocently enough- Goddard Futuristics hosting some event to usher in a milestone- seventy some years seems about right. Marcus is one for the dramatic and from past experience, will take any and every opportunity to dress up and show off. For some damn reason- Miranda came. Maybe she wanted to gaze upon her subordinates, act holier than thou and enjoy an evening of prestige and mystique. These things are but dreams and failed possibilities and something Miranda chose not to dwell on.

She’s normally not in the public eye like this- even when she is, she clings to shadows and mystery- but she’s front and center this time. She was sitting with Marcus while they ate their dinner, talking, joking, acting like the rest of the world ceases to exist around them. Something else happened though- they didn’t just carry on and flirt and make the same jokes as men waiting to be hung. Miranda made a split second decision she doesn’t really regret. Marcus came onto her- said something maybe too suggestive, and Miranda took the bait. Said something close to a make me. 

Marcus’ grin is almost sharklike, he wears it well- obviously- but the looming threat still lurks behind his too white teeth. Miranda, thinking herself in control of the situation, repeats herself. Make me. She smiles- the particular brand of underlying wickedness, she learned from Marcus- and cocks her head to the side. Marcus pats his lap and pushes himself backwards some few inches from their table. Miranda doesn’t back down, she picks up her glass of white wine and sits herself on his lap, her back straight and pressed against his chest, and his arms snaking around her waist.

She thinks she’s won- gotten Marcus to soothe himself and slip under her. He plays the game- kisses her shoulder and neck, doesn’t complain when she doesn’t say anything to him. She sips her wine and watches people- unnerves them and enjoys herself. Miranda doesn’t think much of it- he’s being sweet, he always is, so she doesn’t need to pay attention to his hand drifting down to her skirt. She doesn't mind it- attention from Marcus is always welcome, he's not hurting anyone with it. 

She leans back with his chest to her back when he cues her to. His hand nudges down the hemline of her skirt, the tips of his fingers between the garment and her skin. She doesn't stop him, and his hand goes further down. His fingers brush against her underwear and she almost shivers. Marcus kisses Miranda's neck and she tilts her head to the side. He's sweet on her, gently touching her and rubbing small circles between her hips. His eyes close and he sighs into her skin, he sinks his fingers into her underwear and she shivers.

“Marcus?” Miranda mumbles, setting her glass down and her voice almost at a whimper.

“Yes?” His voice is coy and she leans into him. “What's wrong Miranda?” Marcus gently insists and Miranda scoffs.

“What are you doing?” Miranda's voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh- you know.” Marcus hums as his fingers trail down between Miranda's thighs. He gently pushes her thighs apart and dips his fingers into her underwear. His fingers pass over her soft skin and softer hair between her thighs. His index finger passes gently over her clitoris and Miranda shivers again. Marcus does it again, this time he uses two fingers to pass over her clit and lingers in place, admiring how easy it is to get her wet. Marcus grinds up on her- his hard cock pressing into her ass. The ambiance of the setting is washed away- at least for Miranda, her attention split between the separate tasks needed to keep a calm outward composure.

Marcus goes on teasing her, light brushes and passes over her anatomy. He doesn't warn her when he slides two fingers inside her. Miranda gasps and tenses herself momentarily. Marcus chuckles low in her ear. She relaxes again and Marcus pulls the fabric on the back of her skirt up enough so the back of her thighs would sit directly on his lap. 

“Miranda-” Marcus starts, “-how would you feel about a little bet?” He waits for a moment and Miranda arches an eyebrow.

“I'm listening.” Miranda's voice is quiet. She can guess what he's going to say, but would rather hear him pitch the idea.

“How long would it take for any of our employees to realize I'm inside you-?” He purrs with a devious edge. 

“I think they wouldn't notice it if we were to fuck blatantly.” Miranda deadpans.

“Let's test that theory.” Marcus’ voice is honey and he move quickly and stealthily as he unzips his pants in the cover or Miranda's outfit. His cock stands erect between her thighs and absentmindedly, she grinds on him. Marcus hums in a lower tone and holds her still with a bruising grip. One arm wrapped around her waist and the other under her skirt, he pulls her underwear to the side and aligns himself with her. He doesn't make a move- Miranda does it herself. She lowers herself slowly onto her better half and they both stifle a sound.

Marcus buries his chin in her shoulder and holds her close to his chest. Miranda drums her fingers on the table top and sips from Marcus' glass. The two of them try to relax, calm down and loose themselves of their tension. The two of them also independently decided to torture the other. Miranda flexes her stomach and thighs as she situates herself on Marcus, and Marcus finds the subtlety to grind up into Miranda.

The longer the two stay together like this the more comfortable they get together. Marcus’ hand rests on Miranda's lower stomach and Miranda's leaning over the table, picking at their dinners and sipping wine and water. Sure, people shoot them odd looks and lingering, uncomfortable gazes, but if either seem to care, they don't show it. It doesn’t exactly get dull; small motions build up but they don’t amount to anything fast enough for the two of them. Miranda gets an idea as a man passes them; she can feel Marcus tense up seeing him- she’s not stupid, she knows what he pet means to him.

“Up the stakes.” Miranda practically demands it.

“What are you thinking of, love?” Cutter asks, his chin on her shoulder.

“Can you talk to Warren?” Miranda asks. Cutter can feel her challenging edge, and it’s more inviting than anything else.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, pulling her to lean back on him.

“Marcus,” Miranda clicks her tongue, “do you think that’s my problem? You’re the people person, it’s your choice.” She’s short with him but her tone rolls off his back. He sighs and leans forward, pushing Miranda just slightly onto the table. 

“Warren-!” He calls, gesturing with one hand, the other arm still around Miranda’s middle. “Come here, please.” It’s a question but he doesn’t ask. Warren glances across the room at someone- they both can fathom a guess who- and Kepler walks over to them. The rod in his spine is quite frankly, apparent, and he stands across the table from the two of them.

“Sir?” Warren asks. “What is it?” He takes his time saying it and Cutter smiles.

“Warren, I was wondering how much you plan o-” Marcus starts but Miranda shifts slightly on his lap. Marcus stops dead in his tracks and flexes his hand and exhales sharply. He glares daggers at the floor and his grin looks strained and almost painful. Warren arches an eyebrow and takes a step back. “No- stay. Sit.” Marcus manages, and Warren pauses, then complies again.

Miranda’s glare is harder than obsidian and twice as sharp. Warren doesn’t let himself look at her- she’d intimidate him into sheer silence. So he keeps his gaze on Marcus, even as Miranda’s robotic eyes bore holes into him and Marcus’ cheshire grin plucks away at his nerve.

“How much do you intend on expanding the SI-5, Warren?” Marcus asks in a collected tone. It’s almost too perfect and Warren takes a deep breath.

“I have my eye on a few more candidates. Why do you ask, Mr. Cutter?” Warren’s measured in his response.

“I think it’s my right to know how much you want to expand- I need to get you resources, so you don’t choke and flounder.” Marcus smiles and Warren can feel his blood run cold. He stifles a shiver and Marcus readjusts himself. Miranda stiffens- gets a little fire in her eyes then goes back to staring through Warren. Kepler nods slowly and he looks the two of them over.

“Would you be opposed to hiring a forensics expert?” Warren asks. He’s catching on and the small ounce of morbidity in him piques his curiosity.

“What happened to the last one?” Marcus sounds almost concerned.

“He, quit.” Warren pauses between the words and Marcus rolls his eyes.

“Warren, no need to-” He stops dead again as Miranda deeply exhales. “There’s no need to be coy, Warren.” Marcus lowers his voice and sits straight, his head cocked to the side. “You don’t need to hide anything from me.” The words have a hollow comfort and impose on Warren, he doesn’t shrink back. 

“Of course, sir.” Warren takes a deep breath. “Are you holding something back, sir?” Kepler acts coy and Miranda rolls her eyes.

“Know your place, boy. Marcus doesn’t owe you an explanation.” Miranda’s voice is sharp and her words are on the brink of cutting. Warren holds a hand in surrender and shrugs his shoulders slightly.

“My apologies, Dr. Pryce.” Warren hums and Miranda huffs.

“Save your breath.” She snaps and Marcus rubs circles onto her shoulder.

“No need to be so feisty, Miranda.” Marcus hums and She rolls her eyes. “Warren- I think we’re gone, Miranda and I need to have a private word.” Marcus smiles and Warren doesn’t waste time leaving and walking with a brisk pace to whomever he was looking at before.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinks: petplay, licking, costumes  
> ship: jacoffel
> 
> so like i know its not october and like, shit happened, but like, yknow this should be pretty cool!

Not every man Daniel sleeps with gets to see him the same way Doug gets to see him. They don’t all get to see the dog ears and the tail and the collar- an even rarer population gets to see his leash. It’s a little ironic. Daniel isn’t a dog person- this isn’t something he hides. But, for the select few who know how to disarm him, a softly cooed  _ pup _ , is a surefire way to soften his hard edges.

 

Doug isn’t sure what exactly to do with the leash as it sits in his hand. It isn’t exactly, connected to Daniel, and he’s just, holding it. He’s not sure how it all fits together at least in the abstract, but something sort of clicks when he sees Daniel in a pair of shorts so scandalously short they shouldn’t be real, the ears which blend, so nicely in with his hair, and, the tail. He didn’t get the tail the most but- it makes sense, seeing it. Of course it’d be a butt plug, why wouldn’t it be. The one thing Jacobi isn’t wearing- is the collar. That’s in his hands.

 

Before Doug can even ask his question, Daniel shoves a hand out holding the collar in Doug’s direction. He takes the collar from Daniel, of course, but that doesn’t answer any of the questions he seemingly can’t ask. They share a look and Daniel rolls his eyes.

 

“Put it on me, idiot,” Daniel says it as a joke, some kind of defense to keep him cool and composed in these nerve wracking times.

 

“I’m the idiot?” Doug starts with a devious grin. “You put your collar in my hands, D-” he trails off and pauses, “-puppy.” There’s some hint of superiority in Doug’s voice- like he got some successful dig in that would sting Daniel until his dying days. Daniel doesn’t say anything, his hands nervously go to his tail and he strokes it, wraps pieces of fur around his finger and whines.

 

“Fuckin- whatever,” Daniel huffs and looks anywhere but at Doug.

 

“Hey- c’mere,” Doug sighs, he tries to drop the mood he was in- he knows it can be alienating, and Jacobi doesn’t deserve that- at least right now. Daniel waits a moment- not like he’s thinking it over, more like he’s acting stubbornly- and eventually he drags his feet across the carpet and stands in front of Doug. He doesn’t look up to him- he stares at the skirt of wood bordering the wall just above the floor, studies the lines and- Doug’s hand curls gently under his chin, and he tilts Jacobi’s face up to look at each other.

 

“Relax,” Doug doesn’t command it- tries not to command it- he wants to suggest it; be as comforting as he can be. Daniel doesn’t unwind in a second, he takes deep breaths and looks Doug in the face for a moment before his gaze drifts to his hairline.

 

“Whatever.” He mumbles, still stroking his tail.

 

“Don’t whatever me,” Doug teases with a crooked grin on his face. He waits a moment longer before fitting the collar around Daniel’s throat, the latter bend his head and looks toward the ground and his knees shake ever so slightly with anticipation. “There-” the collar’s latch clicks into place, “-should I put my good boy on his leash?” 

 

When Daniel looks up at Doug, his expression is leagues softer than before. It almost melts Doug’s heart in half a second; both hands hold the sides of Daniel’s face and squish his cheeks together. Daniel nods, a little slowly and eyes wide.

 

“God I think I love you.” Doug presses a quick kiss to Daniel’s forehead and as quickly as he can manage, he secures the leash to the collar. Daniel’s smile is hesitant at first, but quickly contagious to the rest of him.

 

“That’s gay.” Daniel manages. Doug tousles his hair- not aggressively, but overdone, definitely.

 

“Watch your mouth, baby.” He warns almost sternly. “Don’t wanna have to punish you so soon, do I?”

 

“You don’t have it in you-” Daniel grins impishly and Doug gasps- scandalized and clutching his pearls.

 

“The  _ audacity- _ ” Doug sighs, shaking his head, “-looks like I have to show you who’s boss.” His voice lowers to a gruff purr and Daniel smiles in defiance. “On your knees, pup, you’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

 

\----

 

It doesn’t take long for Doug to fall into the role of a master in this scenario. For all the fuss he puts up, Daniel is somewhat easier on him than he expected. Sitting on his knees in front of Doug with his hands on his thighs; he looks cute like this. Lightly, Doug tugs on his leash, and Daniel falls onto his hands a knees. Doug leads him around the bedroom- looking back and feeling his heart melt at the sight- and leads Daniel behind him, for a few moments. It’s different- but it isn’t unwelcome.

 

Doug doesn’t see it as inherently sexual- and it shows. He’s too busy cooing at and doting on Jacobi, telling him how cute and sweet he is, how much of a good boy he’s being for him. Daniel doesn’t let it show that he’s caught off guard, he just leans into it and makes noise accordingly. Little yips and whimpers, slight pants here and there, anything that wouldn’t be too over the top, not that Doug could tell the difference. He takes Daniel through a few tricks- basic things, sit, stay, lay down, roll over- then he moves up to more intermediate moves; first Daniel’s hand rests in his, next, Doug kisses the back of his hand and Daniel whines.

 

“Awh,” Doug smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling and sounding actually vulnerable, “you’re so cute.” He hums for what must be the hundredth time, and Daniel whimpers, turning his face away a bit and trying to hide the growing red blush on his cheeks. Doug leans in a bit, leash in one hand and Daniel’s in the other, he runs his fingers through a section of Daniel’s hair and grins as Daniel turns his head away. “What’s the matter baby? Getting shy?”

 

“N-No. Course not,” Daniel whimpers and knits his eyebrows together- assumingly to try and look intimidating or just- not adorable. A tactic which fails miserably as Doug covers his face in light kisses and hums almost unintelligibly. Doug drops the leash and pulls Daniel in for a hug. He doesn’t expect it and for a moment Daniel’s tense and guarded, but it melts away in seconds with soothing words and gentle strokes of the hair. He holds onto Doug’s arm and Doug sighs almost dreamily.

 

“Course not, sugar.” He kisses Daniel’s forehead and lightly tugs on the tail. Daniel yelps and tries to readjust, wiggling his hips and whimpering but never finding that comfort again. Doug smacks his ass and gets a yip from Daniel who shrinks into his chest and sticks his ass out a bit further. “You’re such a good boy for me, you know that?” Doug’s voice is low and smooth and it’s drowning Daniel where he stands. He pats Daniel’s back near his shoulder and grabs his leash near the collar.

 

Before Doug can act again, Daniel moves faster. He licks Doug’s cheek near the corner of his lips and hides his face the best he can. For a moment, Doug is stunned. He stares at Daniel’s face and he tries to hide away, but he catches his chin before he can tuck it into his chest.

 

“Did you lick me?” Doug asks in a low tone with a slight grin. Daniel only whimpers in return and Doug chuckles so lightheartedly. “My sweet little puppy, oh my god-” Doug can’t help from laughing- the reaction feels natural.

 

“Look-” Daniel gets defensive in breakneck speed, but before he can say much more, Doug’s finger is laid on his lips.

 

“Shush.” Doug starts with the same grin. “That was the cutest thing ever.” He hums, voice rising with a growing excitement. “You’re so sweet puppy- are you just that deep in?” He’s teasing and is talking far too quickly. “Wanna do it again? Lick daddy somewhere e- ow!” He yelps and pouts. Daniel’s teeth clamped around his finger and an aura of grandiosity or rather smugness about him. “What the hell was that!” Doug whines and scowls. 

 

“Puppy’s bite, Eiffel.” Daniel sounds more full of himself then he reasonably should in this situation and Doug can’t do a thing but gawk and twist his face up to look like an angry kitten. Daniel just laughs, lowly chuckles then huffs and full on laughs for a second until his collar is yanked.

 

“If you’re gonna teethe, might as will give you something to put your mouth on,” Doug almost growls it and Jacobi’s blood chills and his spine stiffens almost too quickly. 

 

“Yes, sir.” Daniel hums and Doug huffs feeling a little too proud of himself as he pushes Daniel to his knees. 

 

“Just know,” Doug starts, pausing to unbutton his jeans, “if you bite this daddy will be very, upset with you.” He finishes the statement shoving his jeans down. Daniel can glean what he’s about to do- he can see Doug’s hard dick in front of his face and he knows what’s expected of him, so he leans in and drags his tongue around the tip of Doug’s still clothed cock. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shout out to bassoon ik you'll see this and dude i really fuckin appreciate this, you're a fuckin, icon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> herawell, pegging, nipple play, frottage, body worship

It’s felt like a lifetime since Maxwell was last able to hold Hera in her arms. She’s grateful for spending time with her- but the thing she’s never been prepared for was the wet dreams. Maybe it’s the repressed feelings from her childhood some variation thereof making itself known. But it always happens when she doesn’t sleep alone. Unfortunately for her, it doesn’t end before she wakes. 

Alana’s wakes up to Hera’s half-asleep voice and her shoulder being nudged. She can’t quite make sense of what Hera’s saying, but she can guess it might be about how she’s bucking her hips against hers in some sense of desperation and unfettered neediness. She rubs her eyes and tunes into reality and Hera’s still talking.

“-I mean, if you want to, you can just, ask.” She shrugs, and stretches her arms up above her head. Alana’s face goes red at breakneck speed and she rubs the heels of her palms against her closed eyelids. 

“Hera,” Alana sighs, “I can’t while I’m asleep.” She lays on her side and exhales deeply.

“That’s not what I mean.” Hera doesn’t sound short she just sounds tired. “Are you just gonna pout and act like it didn’t happen?” She leans on Alana’s shoulder. She smiles and rolls onto her back with Hera resting on her palms on top of her. 

“What did you mean?” Maxwell asks coyly, tracing her fingers along the contours of Hera’s arms, up her biceps to her shoulders, letting her hands rest behind her neck. Hera scoffs and situates herself over Maxwell with her knees on either side of her hips. 

“You know exactly what I meant-“ Hera starts, sitting on Alana’s thighs, “-you’re just too chicken to say it.” Hera smiles in a way just next to smug, like she’s won and Alana just needs to fall into her checkmate. They both know she’s just goading her on- but Alana, can’t help herself. 

“I am not-“ she’s quick to jump to defensive. It’s not a real attack, but one must be careful with pride on the line, “I am not, a chicken.” Alana gathers herself and speaks more smoothly, with her fingers busying themselves with stray strands of Hera’s teal hair.

“Then say it.” Hera goads, leaning down next to Alana’s ear. “Tell me what you want.” Her voice is smooth and Alana melts as her lips graze her ear. She sighs and lets her eyes flutter shut. 

“You,” Alana hums as Hera presses a light kiss to her jaw, “I want you.” Alana says it so easily and Hera can feel herself fall in love a little more. “Please-“

“You’re so cute.” Hera mumbles against her lips and kisses Alana; hands cupping her face ever so gently. She grinds her hips against her and Alana reacts almost immediately. She whimpers and pulls Hera closer, kissing with more want than she’d like to admit. 

Hera pulls away slightly, glancing down at Alana and feeling all too proud of herself. 

“Don’t be mean,” Alana mutters, leaning up to keep close, “pretty please?” She pouts.

“I’m not being mean.” Hera hums, her hands moving down Alana’s chest, running the side of her thumb across one of her nipples. Alana’s stomach tightens and she lets her hand fall from Hera’s hair and move down her back in a crawl. She rolls her eyes as her hands fall down to Hera’s waist and slide under her borrowed shirt. “It would be mean to tie your hands up.” Hera pinches Alana’s nipple and she whines, being consoled with a light squeeze of her breast.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Alana hums, halfway to a dreamier state, “I’m too fun.” It’s knowing, and close to the truth, and Hera sighs with all the love she can muster.

“I would dare.” Hera says it with some finality and lightly pinches Alana’s nipple again. “It’s fun to see you squirm.” Hera hums, almost bored. It makes Alana shiver, a cold wave going up the length of her spine. “Sort of line that.” She hums, both hands now cupping and squeezing Alana’s breasts. It’s more relaxing for Hera than it is exciting for Alana.

“I’m not- squirming.” Alana takes a breath as she says it and Hera takes the opportunity to pinch both of her nipples and tug ever so slightly. “Succubus.” Alana partially moans and her hips grind up against Hera’s again. 

“You’re right, you aren’t squirming.” Hera’s voice is balanced as she rolls her hips against Alana’s again- feeling a point of pride at how hard she’s getting beneath her. “You’re just horny- and bucking up against me. Again.” Hera’s full of herself and Alana can’t quite fault her for it. She would be too. “It’s kinda cute.” Hera hums.

Alana huffs, her hands around the sides of Hera’s chest and a subconscious tension in her stomach and between her hips, she stares at Hera’s shoulder and bites the inside of her cheek as Hera bites a small mark into her neck. She tries to keep her cool, but the slightest moan escapes her lips as Hera rolls Alana’s nipples between her fingers. Hera grins to herself, a small point of pride in the moment.

Hera lingers for a moment- pauses between actions as she decides what to do next. Slowly enough, she starts grinding herself against Alana’s cock. She lets out short sweet sounds and Alana’s eyes blow out wide. She knows what she wants but the words are light years away and Hera only gets closer and more tangible. Hera’s hands move from Alana’s chest, over her shirt and she guides her hands from the sides of her chest to hold her breasts. She moves Alanas hands, brushes her thumbs against her nipples and sighs.

There are some times in her life where Alana can’t believe how far she’s come- where the image before her is just so beautiful, she has to check to make sure she’s not dreaming. She grinds up against Hera and feels her right in front of her- already getting wet and the evidence on her underwear. She pinches her nipples ever so slightly and Hera moans, arches her back a bit as she grinds her hips on Alana’s. It’s torture but it’s real and it’s beautiful.

Their hips grind together like this and Alana can swear she could finish just like this- but Hera has another plan. Moments into the harmony they’ve created, Hera stops. Alana keeps moving- bucks up hoping for more, but Hera moves away and Alana’s helplessly fucking the air.

“You look so pathetic like this- it’s adorable.” Hera condescends and Alana goes red. 

“Don’t start that,” Alana mumbles, looking away sheepishly.

“It’s true- you’re perfect.” Hera mumbles, leaning down to kiss Alana gently on the lips. Alana’s hands go from her chest to over her shoulders again and Hera can’t help but grin. Always the polite church girl, isn’t she? “My perfect little girl,” Hera sighs into her mouth and reaches for the nightstand closest to Alana’s side of the bed. She reaches into the drawer and rummages around past batteries and sex toys both homemade and store-bought, and pulls a familiar device out. A roughly hand sized vibrator with a silver handle and matte black body, she presses a fairly in-laid button and it buzzes to life.

Alana barely pays it any mind- she’s used to this, after all. Hera leans down, setting the toy on the duvet next to them and keeps kissing Alana, short sweet pecks that are easily returned. Her hands travel down Alana’s body, gently tickling her waist and making her smile into a kiss before settling around her hips and the band of her pajama pants. Hera pulls the garment down halfway down Alana’s thighs and runs her index finger up the length of her cock. She shivers and tries for more, mind cloudy and moving her hands back down to Hera’s chest, playing with her nipples almost desperately. 

Hera hums to herself, stradling Alana’s thigh and she plays with the vibrators settings, finding something consistent to stay and holding it to the base of her dick. Alana reacts almost immediately, twisting and humping the air, whimpering and whining. She grabs at Hera and can’t decide between escaping the sensation and leaning into it.

“Oh- is that too much?” Hera purrs, clicking the vibrator to a lower setting.

“God- no- please,” Alana pants, “please- please-”

“Please what?” Hera says it almost curtly and Alana whines. “I’m not a mind-reader, doctor.”

“I want- the other one, please,” Alana manages, flexing her thighs as Hera grinds on her yet again.

“Good girl.” The vibrator setting goes up and Hera moans as she finds the perfect angle to grind on Alana’s thigh.

She’s panting under her and writhing helplessly, and as her breathing becomes more erratic, Hera takes the vibrator off of her. Alana looks beyond betrayed and her mouth hands open.

“Hera-” She hisses and Hera shakes her head.

“You know the rules, Alana.” Hera says it rather flatly and Alana pouts and indignation paints her face.

“The rules, are stupid.” She spits. Hera tilts her head to the side and turns the vibrator to the highest setting. She holds Alana’s cock in one hand and keeps the vibrator positioned right on top of the flushed head of her cock. Alana gasps and breathes in sharply, bucking her hips and trying to break free from the sensation but Hera holds steady. “Fuck- I’m- please mistress-” Alana begs to no avail. She’s desperate and it’s plastered on her sleeves.

“What’s the magic word?” Hera asks in a coy voice. “You know- the one that’ll make this all go a marginally better route?” Alana can feel her pride and self preservation fist fight inside of her, and before they can declare a winner, she takes a sharp breath and makes the choice herself.

“I’m sorry- mistress- please-” She gasps, and after a second longer, the vibrator comes away from her and clicks off. “Thank you, mistress.” Alana breathes out, relief washing over her in tandem with a slight feeling of- want. 

“Don’t thank me just yet.” Hera starts, standing up from where she was kneeling. “I think your little outburst deserves, a punishment.” She’s looking through the bottom drawer of the nightstand and Alana’s heart skips a beat. Hera stands straight, holding a bottle of scented lube in one hand and a strapon in the other. Before ‘punishment’ registers in Alana’s mind, her eyes go wide and her heart races. Alana spreads her legs almost subconsciously and Hera giggles to herself.

She puts the harness on the bed and sits between Alana’s thighs. She reaches into the top drawer again and pulls a bullet vibrator out. She sits facing Alana and spreads her legs, pushing her underwear to the side and rubbing her fingers in circles around her clit, already wet and almost too enticing, Alana can’t look away. Hera feels something like her namesake and moans softly, teasing her fingers around her clit, almost fingering herself. Then- she turns on the bullet vibrator. She rubs a thin coat of lube on the device and leans forward, teasing at Alana’s ass and making the woman gasp and moan. Slowly, she pushes the vibrator inside of her until all that pokes out is the wire connecting it to the power box.

Alana whimpers, trying to find some comfortable way to lay that never seems to make itself apparent to her. She reaches a hand down to touch- something, herself or Hera- she can’t decide which, and Hera pushes her hand away, pins it up by the pillows as she fixes the harness to herself. Alana knits her eyebrows together as she watches, sizing up the toy Hera’s wearing and chewing her inner cheek. As soon as the harness is on, Hera takes the hand sized vibrator and slides it inside of herself, the low pace making her groan and sigh. Alana almost feels helpless- staring at the dildo and Hera and wanting to do more- but she isn’t allowed to. She knows it, Hera sure as hell knows it- the desperate look on her face is almost irresistible. 

Alana doesn’t track Hera’s motions all too closely- she’s lost herself in thought and only comes back to reality as Hera’s wet finger presses at her ass in the same way the vibrator did. She pushes in and Alana tries to relax- make it as painless as possible. Her finger works in slowly, and it pushes the bullet vibrator in deeper. Alana moans, pushing her hips down and whining at the slight discomfort. She twists her fingers in the sheets and tries for more.

Hera waits a moment, curling her finger inside of Alana and slowly adding a second. Alana groans and sinks into the mattress, taking deep breaths she spreads her legs incrementally further. Hera smiles something private and smug and works her fingers in and out in a calm almost relaxing motion for her. She curls her fingers and watches as Alana stretches open for her and after a moment of her languid moans, Hera stops. She pulls her fingers out of Alana and sits on her knees.

She lines herself up with Alana and slowly pushes the head of the toy inside of her. Alana gasps and she grips the sheets tighter, taking heavy breaths as she tries to force herself to relax. A loud groan floats from her lips and she doesn’t even notice it as Hera pushes in deeper. She rocks her hips with Hera’s and bites her lip in a vain attempt to stifle some moan from escaping. Hera leans down, slowly rocking her hips with Alana’s and she lays small kisses on her neck, working up her jaw until she can press a gentle kiss to her lips. 

Alana can’t help but moan into her mouth- she sighs and moans, eyes closed as she tries to kiss Hera back. She takes deep breaths- tries to steady herself, but the vibrations and the angle- the way Hera rolls her hips drives her deeper and deeper into this bliss. She sighs when Hera pulls all the way out, her hands gently resting on her thighs, trying to pull her in closer. She sinks back into Alana and lightly bites her lip gently after kissing her again, their foreheads together for a moment before Hera pulls back to let Alana whine as loudly as she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want, feedback, i wanna know if i wrote this in a tasteful way, i wanna avoid being weird as much as possible ygm


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